I'm The Kinda That You Wanna
by Lover Applewhite
Summary: Tryan in two parts: Troy has a problem. Ryan assumes the role of listener and finds himself in for more than he ever expected.


**A/N: This is trashy and lame. Sorry.**

**P.S. The formatting of this story has been touch-and-go due to software issues, which is why so many words were cut off. I have mostly fixed it. Also, I don't know anything about sexual addiction or the Columbian drug trade…. This is a cartoonish work of fiction meant to entertain.**

I fucked Troy Bolton because it was trendy. And anyway, he asked me to.

The night it started:

I had just gotten off work at the mall in the foothills. Smelling him before recognizing his silhouette against my car, I pretended to squint in the late, glittery sunset.

"Bro," he said, smiling with his whole body in the natural way supposed Link Larkin in Hairspray (Broadway, not Waters) might do too. "Spare any weed?"

The way he said "any" before naming the drug told me he wasn't accustomed to illegal or profane dealings. No surprise. His skin looked scrubbed by more than mere soap--it glowed with a holy force, as though exfoliated by the facialist of God." No," I said, pursing my lips. "But if you wait til tonight, I've got a number for some wicked X."

And then I murdered a laugh before it bubbled to my lips--the alarm on his face was so tangible and hot, a delight to all senses. He smelled like fear and Cool Water.

"That's okay. Sorry to bother you."

"Not at all," I said, relishing the click of car doors unlocking. "You need a ride?"

"Kind of."

"Get in, we'll go where I was headed. Unless you're needed elsewhere."

He shook his head, hunching his shoulders a little and sliding in with me.

There was techno on the radio. I left it till we got closer to midtown.

"So I didn't know you smoked," I said, adjusting my Chanels an slipping in a labeless CD.

"Yeah, just started."

I looked at him over the lenses, making him tense visibly, his eye on the road I wasn't watching.

"You and Chad? Oooh, aaah."

Peaches from the speakers: _I'm the kinda bitch that you wanna get with._

"Can't be great for your athletic promise."

He made a scoffing sound--endearing--and told me, "Good, I'm quitting."

I swerved in my surprise, prompting him to jump. "_Really?_ Forgive me for saying this, but did your father _die_ or something?"

He actually laughed, too hard, too fast. "I wish," he said. "I'm not living with his bullshit anymore. I talked to my mom and she said we both needed to take steps toward becoming less the subdued victims my dad's patriarchal complex has inured us into and more embracers of our birthright: freedom." When I looked at him this time he stayed seated.  "She's been reading books. Her best friend is a woman." He shrugged, looked unconcerned.

"I guess that explains everything," I said. I pulled into the dirt parking lot of a green Victorian. Through expansive front windows w saw scene kids on laptops. "This is the Evelyn Bone House. In 192 its namesake was murdered here."

He looked at me, calmer than I'd predicted. "Cool," he said. "Can we go in?"

I tipped my hat to the kids in the far right hand corner of the deep scarlet room; they waved back with long-fingered hands. Tendrils of clove smoke got caught in Christmas lights above.

"Hey Mad Dan," I said at the counter, "how's the gonorrhea?" I felt Troy's bright warmth as he trailed behind me, inhaling the Bob Dylan mural and stacks of old psyche books and breathy remains of someone's just-spent Lucky Strike.

"Patchier than yesterday," Dan said, twirling a whipped cream ca before dolloping an iced mocha. "Double-short, faggot?"

"Right you are. Bone dry."

He winked at me and nodded at Troy. "You never bring guests anymore. Cousin? Boy toy? Shall I lower my voice?"

"Troy, this is Mad Dan," I said, lighting up. "Take note. He's thirty-two-year old barista whose only luck with women involves picking up their germs."

Troy nodded seriously and actually said, "How d'you do."

"Damn Ryan." Dan whistled lightly, cocking a kempt brow. "He' almost cornier than you. He a stage fag? Where'd you find him?"

"Ask him." I took a drag.

"Tall person," said Dan, though he hulked a head over us both, "what is your occupation and how come you by Sir Evans? He is, after all, a Aquarius--a solitary genius too frigid to contract our mortal STDs."

Troy smiled with hesitance, using only his mouth. "From school. Hi sister's been stalking me for years..." He looked at me sideways to make sure I wasn't mad. I smiled back. "He was my understudy in our last high school musical."

Dan laughed, "Ho HO! Not only a stage fag, but one who's one-upped you! Damn Ryan. I'm surprised you brought him here." I couldn't stop grinning in spite of myself. "Yeah, well. I gave him a ride."

"And that's not all, I bet."

I shrugged and took my latte before showing Troy upstairs. The Fain was playing. Wet From Birth.

"So why this sudden urge to change? You're the happiest boy I ca think of, Troy Bolton, with your Bonne Bell girlfriend and my leading role. Did somebody slip you a Bright Eyes album?"

His laugh was foamy and sweet like a dessert. "I don't know what that means, but I have been listening to some of AC/DC's sadder selections."

I smiled, putting out my smoke and taking out another. "But why? Why do you need solace?"

He looked up and around the top floor. Silver stars dotted the ceiling; posters for Italian erotica shone from the walls. We were curled up on a filthy velour couch.

"I like this place," he said. "I really do. I didn't know this part about you."

I exhaled, bemused. "I know," I said. "Troy."

He blinked at me. He really was an innocent. "Ryan?"

"What's shaking your foundation?"

He sighed. "Can I have one of those?" I handed him a Capri. H laughed as he lit it.

"It's like smoking a lollipop stick." He took an unpracticed drag an blew out slowly. "Okay. I have a problem. It goes like this." I leaned in a little closer as he dropped his volume twofold.

"Up until two months ago, Gabriella was a Catholic girl. So much s that her mother once revealed to me in confidence that they'd bee looking at convents together before she met me."

My mouth opened: "Woah, woah, woah."

"I know. Her soul was as devoted to her Saviour as her head was to Gregor Mendel. A week before it happened we were watching monkeys in the zoo when she said, "I have to tell you, Troy, that while you are an emotional priority for me, you will always be sharing me with Our Lord Jesus Christ."

I giggled sort of dryly. "Before what happened?"

"I'll get to that. The following Sunday I went over to he grandmother's house for this reunion thing she'd invited me to. I found her with some cousins. Passing around some menthol cigarettes behind the pool house. They all looked like death...their skin tones went from ash to paper white. Gabriella looked the worst. Skin all pasty with spots like ink under her eyes. I said, 'I thought you didn't have any relatives in Albuquerque and she said, ' 'I do now, she said. It turns out her mom's "company move" was to cover her role in an operation run by the Colombian mafia, for which she was a runner. Gabriella hadn't moved. She'd had facial reassignment surgery after being seen on her first run, just a few streets down from here. Drug money. When I got there they'd just found out that there'd been a leak and there were some very high-profile gangsters out to slaughter the whole family."

I breathed in through my teeth. "Are you fucking with me, man? 'Cause if you are, I am impressed."

He shook his head. "No, Ryan. The world is upside down. After the reunion I asked her why they'd hold a barbeque outside if they live in terror of the king pin's snipers, and she just said that hiding was more obvious. Then she pushed me back onto her bed and mad me...made me fuck her. Dry. She never got wet through the whole brutal thing. "

"Shit." I shook my head. "Bonne Belle princess?"

"Yes. And let me tell you..." He paused, brows furrowed. "It was incredible. From another world. I've never considered myself straight per se, but the ugly force that drove her to cast aside the crucifix and despair using my body...hot. It was hot. I'm getting warm remembering."

I made a face. "Dude. Sick. That's brutal, man, that's bizarre. I think you have a problem."

He grunted and nodded. "I told you that I did. Gabriella's issues were only the beginning of my own. After that I was a sexual battlefield. I was on a rampage. As her condition worsened and she got paler and scareder and fiercer and grayer, I laid back and let her ride it out, fuses blowing in my head. I popped a blood vessel in my eye from all the tension. Remember?"

I nodded, slow, nervous for the first time that night. "Yes. Darbus was furious."

"I couldn't get my headshot. But I could get head. When I left Gabriella at night I would blow off my mom's pleas to come home an watch my father while she book clubbed. I hunted." He looked like h might cry. He looked at me and then away.

"I found Kelsi first, broken up with Jason after his parents sent her running. They're Jewish. Hardcore. I just crawled under the piano and started it then...she didn't miss a note while I worked under her skirt, but the volume got louder and louder. She screamed at the top of the bridge. It was Phantom of the Opera."

I put my hand on his shoulder--he looked so tragic that just sitting felt irresponsible.

"Then the woman at Rosette's."

"She's like forty!"

"Forty-two. Pretty tight still. We did it over the jewelry counter."

I shuddered lightly and moved closer to him.

"Then locker sex with Zeke."

"He's straight!"

"I'm hard to turn down. Especially when you're pinned against a wall He took it like a man. The best of those three. I thought the best ever until I had her." His voice was terrible as it closed around the last word.

I didn't want to ask. "Who?"

He looked into my eyes so I could see his remorse. It was poignant. Like a poem. "Sharpay."

I choked.

"After Zeke told her what happened she found me to kill me and i became...god, Ryan, it was extreme...a perfect...sadomasochistic dance. I've never come so hard in my life."

A tear ran down my still face. I didn't flinch when he moved it away.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

Another tear followed.

"There have been others since, but they won't mean anything to you Less than they meant to me, and they were nothing. I have a problem Ryan. I am a war unto myself."

I couldn't say anything for five minutes. Just sucked the foam fro my latte and looked him in the eyes. To be sure it was true. To see if there was depth there capable of fabricating such a farce.

Slowly I opened my mouth. "Why are you telling me?" I said.

He laughed purely, openly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No." I frowned.

"I'm trying to seduce you."

"Ha!"

"Well." He moved the hand I'd placed on his shoulder to his knee. "Really, you're the one seducing me."

I am generally the most together person I know. I plan outfits week in advance. I set background music to everything. My dancing is seamless and my atmosphere controlled. In this rare, absurd moment, however, I have no idea what to think or to do. Mystery solving was never my vocation. "Troy," I finally say. "You are too young for me."

"Six months difference."

"It's illegal."

"So is this," he says, pulling a gram of coke from my waist pocket before I can grab his hand. When I do, he holds my wrist, smiling like he's won something.

"Don't worry, Ryan, I won't tell. And if you're good to me, I won't allow this--" he pulls out a tape recorder and plays back, _"But if you wait til tonight, I've got a number for some wicked X"_--to fall on any of the wrong ears. As an adult, I imagine the charges you face for offering ecstasy to a minor are far more serious than, say, breaking a law against sodomy."

Now I'm the one smelling like fear. "What exactly do you want?"

He shrugs, and for the first time I see in his eyes that depth that I was looking for. "I've never bottomed. Not with a guy. And I've never been with a fag so pronounced and...together as you. I just want you to make love to me like you would someone you loved." I exhale, my Sharpay-driven tears coming back. Such a pronounced fag. So together.

"You know you want to, Ryan," he says.

I shake my head and narrow my eyes, "No. Why would I want to?"

He leans in close and whispers in my ear: "Because you've seen my naked body under the curtains of your eyes. And because I'll never lie to you."

I sigh. Defeated. "I guess I don't have much of a choice. But Troy: please don't kill me. Physically or otherwise. I'm a talented individual with a field of energy this world could use."

Not having moved from the crook of shoulder, he kisses my neck and says, "Never."


End file.
